


Break, Break, Break

by thingswithwings



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crying, Death, Deathfic, Gen, Grief, Humor, Loss, Pain, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-15
Updated: 2008-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:11:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>team gen, angst, deathfic, pain, sorrow, angst, pain, loss, agony</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break, Break, Break

**Author's Note:**

> I suffered a loss today, so I wrote this to distract myself. Title from the poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson:
> 
>  _Break, break, break,  
>  On thy cold gray stones, O sea!  
> And I would that my tongue could utter  
> The thoughts that arise in me._
> 
>  _O, well for the fisherman's boy,  
>  That he shouts with his sister at play!  
> O, well for the sailor lad,  
> That he sings in his boat on the bay!_
> 
>  _And the stately ships go on  
>  To their haven under the hill;  
> But O for the touch of a vanished hand,  
> And the sound of a voice that is still!_
> 
>  _Break, break, break,  
>  At the foot of thy crags, O sea!  
> But the tender grace of a day that is dead  
> Will never come back to me._

There's a Satedan instrument called a _Laine_ that's something like a small, low-pitched flute; Ronon plays it at the service, plays surprisingly well. The music is sweet and sad – poignant, that's the word – and Rodney wonders whether the Satedans have traditional songs for this kind of ceremony.

Teyla steps forward just as Ronon comes to the end of the dirge, reaching out smoothly to lower the casket (the remains) slowly into the water. A single, perfect Athosian rose graces the top of the simple wooden box. Rodney watches as the waves reach upwards, as if to embrace the honoured dead.

He doesn't cry: he's already cried enough. He doesn't have any tears left in him to give. But there's something in him like a cry, a deep, wrenching shout that heaves at his diaphragm and threatens to tear itself from his throat. Rodney grits his teeth against it.

After he's said a few words – clumsy and inadequate – Ronon and Teyla touch his shoulder gently, then leave him alone on the pier, leave him to say any last goodbyes in private. Rodney wants to thank them for their kindness, their indulgence, their mercy, but he can't quite get the words past his lips. He leans heavily on the railing, shoulders hunching inwards, head hung low.

A cool, long-fingered hand presses tentatively against the nape of Rodney's neck.

"Listen, buddy, I'm sorry and all," John says slowly, "but do we have to do this every time you lose a laptop?"

Rodney looks up at him, shocked. "You know how I felt about Ben, Sheppard."

Sheppard purses his lips; his eyebrows come together in frustration. "That's another thing, Rodney – maybe you wouldn't feel this way if you didn't name them all."

Rodney allows a single, crystalline tear to course down his face. "I can't help it," he manages, his voice thick. "I can't help how I love."

John nods, blowing a breath out slowly, and his fingers tighten comfortingly against the back of Rodney's neck. "I know, buddy," he says. "I know."

They stand together for a long time, watching the sun set. Below them, the tide washes in and out, in and out, covering over the bodies that lie, restless, beneath the shining waves.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to my dear external harddrive, Also George, who broke down today with lots and lots of data on him. Also George has been a faithful servant lo these many . . . six months. I hope that your prayers and thoughts will be with him as he finds his way to the data recovery centre.


End file.
